


Dark commander

by laerkemuller



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Background Het, Childhood Friends, Established Relationship, M/M, Minor Character Death, Mystery Character(s), Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23646856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laerkemuller/pseuds/laerkemuller
Summary: The years of war have already passed, few will recall the name of the Dark Commander, the most faithful and devoted supporter of Voldemort, his magical spouse. But everything changes at the moment when Harry Potter finds a tiny artifact in Hogwarts, which for some reason seems to him unallowable familiar...
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Tom Riddle/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Тёмный Командир](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/582742) by Линни Лёнок. 



Lungs unbearably burned due to hot air mixed with ash. Heart was ready to jump out, because of long run in suffocating heat. Harold stopped, catching his breath and throwing away interfering strands of long hair, that once was blonde but now charred and covered with soot in some places. Mask, that covered face, seems to be tightly stick to the skin.

— Commander, we are surrounded! We need to retreat! – someone screamed nearby, hardly shouting down the Fiendfyre's roar.

The blurred mind didn't immediately recognize the screaming one. Antonin Dolohov – very young Death Eater who already several weeks holding the unspoken position of vice-commander, and, as the result, always flickering in the front line. Despite his recklessness he always felt the situation perfectly. And although his face was hidden under a mask, it was clearly read in his gaze that he considered this operation to be pure madness.

— No! – Harold said firmly, getting into a fighting stance, wary looking for aurors so far hidden behind a dense wall of bright orange fire, – We must hold out until Tom will come.

He squeezed a wand even tighter and the left hand habitually touched sinister sign on the left side of the neck. Skull with creeping serpent was burned fleetingly but unlike fierce heat of Fiendfyre it only caused a pleasant shiver somewhere inside: soon his spouse will be here.

***

Dark lord paced restlessly along the border of anti-apparation barrier, his best fighters should have returned, but the glade overgrown with dry, short grass remained empty. He was just thinking about what he is going to do with Harold after his returning: that one made him worry much this time, when a scorching wave of an alarm signal ran through the spine and the destination was especially clear in the head.

***

Aurors were never so sure of their victory. Of course! This operation was led by Albus Dumbledore himself – the greatest light wizard of these days. The trick worked perfectly: appeared Death Eaters immediately was divided into several groups by Fiendfyre that was caused by senior auror, but numerically superior to the enemy's, forces of enforcement officers «valiantly» killed those who separated from the commander. A handful of wizards that fought back to back with Dark lord's right hand man. Despite numerical superiority aurors couldn't get close to these Eaters, who desperately fought for life and death.

Colorful beams of spells crossed and encountered in the air, create a sinister firework. Aurors continued pressed dark wizards, Fiendfyre was already almost closing over their heads.

A series of loud pops made both of sides to recoil back: right between them, break an anti-apparation barrier, the other detachment of Death Eaters materialized, led by Dark lord himself. In the same time the fire seems to glow less, and aurors, despite the insufferable heat, felt the breath of the grave cold. Dozen of creatures, wrapped in torn black robes, rapidly gliding a few meters from the ground, closing deathly ring around the battleground. 

In a few moments alignment has changed. Senior auror, Alastor Moody, swore angrily: supporting the Fienfyre getting harder and harder.

— Use your pocket Death Eater, – he shouted to someone.

At the same moment one of Death Eaters, that was standing side by side with Harold, a little startled, glancing briefly to where, in his opinion, the commanders of the enemy forces were. The time has come. 

Reinforcements arrival at once raised dark wizard's fight spirit, they rushed into battle with double tenacity. There wasn't clear division on sides: wizards in bright red mantels accidentally flashed between Eaters' black robes.

In the heat of battle Harold couldn't see Dark Lord but clearly felt that he is somewhere nearby. Most part of Eaters pushed aside aurors from fire end; bright green beam of Avada hit into the last person who dare to attack Dark Commander. Harold take his breath and lowered his wand, with which he didn't part throughout the battle… The other bright green beam flashed in few inches from his head. Could be someone else left? Harold turned around sharply but second beam of deadly curse didn't miss.

The traitor in matte-gray mask, with ink scripted characters, squeezed in a hand portkey, with quite cotton leaving an ill-fated place.

***

Dumbledore leisurely walked on the scorched earth. Bright orange flame still blazed here and there, far away flickered flashes of spells. Wizard couldn't believe their fortunate: his plan, with Death Eater, that turned up under their feet so luckily, served well. Albus didn't think that they will be able to get this wizard, called the Dark Commander.

The mask with recognizable black tracery didn't give in immediately: apparently, for reliability it was fixed with spells. Dumbledore nearly recoiled, when the flame lit up a pale, motionless face, too familiar to the old wizard.

— Harold, my boy, – the greatest bright wizard of modernity said quitely, bending over the most powerful Dark Lord's supporter's body, – You've disappointed me so much...

Aftеr turning the guy's head, Albus saw what he was looking for – little silver earring glittered mockingly, reflecting uneven light of a burning flame. 

Not really carefully Dumbledore pulled an ear-clove: dead person don't care. Powerful charms lay on this tiny thing, Albus felt it distinctly but he was in no hurry to get rid of his find. If his suspicions were right…

***

Adversaries appareated in fear, Eaters couldn't hold back their glee, gratefully looking at their leader. But Dark Lord wasn't in hurry to rejoice with everyone: he was uneasy at heart. In one moment inside his soul something had broke but in fight rush it doesn't seem to be so important. Now the scary feeling, that didn't want to disappear, caused a certain worries… Harold!

Lord, spitting on his reputation, rashly ran to where, according to his assumptions, his magical husband should have been. The dark silhouette lonely figure distinctly stood out against a bright flame but it surely wasn't the person Riddle wanted so much to see.

— Hello, Tom

— Dumbledore, – Dark Lord's voice sounded calmly but the body was tensed to the limit.

His gaze was brokenly fumbled around until he caught hold of something lying at the old man's feet. Tom exhaled abruptly; crimson gleam glimpsed in his eyes. Dumbledore, who noticed that, just smiled: the situation was perfect for him. At that time Dark Lord was trying to stay calm. The situation has not yet been lost, his husband will be back to him: geezer didn't know anything about horcruxes.

— Oh, dear boy, you are so deeply mistaken, – as if reading his thoughts, Albus cooed.

Tongues of flame danced, reflected in the glass of his half-spectacles, violate the look os a kind magician in an absurd lilac mantle. Something familiarly flashed in the geezer's hand and time stood still.

The heart kept beating it's wild rhythm, Tom couldn't move, inextricably looking on such a native earring, which was dangerously close to Fienfyre.

Only one moment was enough for him to throw up his wand, blue-black beam breaked from her a second later. Albus darted to the side at the same time throwing up a hand, the earrings glimpsed in the air for the last time and disappeared, picked up by a bright fiery tape.

Phoenix thrill ominously flashed over the battleground – beautiful bird with bright plumage sank on Dumbledore's shoulder. A moment before disappearing, gaffer whispered just a few words, which thundered for Tom no worse than thundered.

— He won't return.

***

_ Almost a year had passed since this battle. Where did he chose the wrong way?.. _

— Crucio! — quietly, almost affectionately uttered Dark Lord and his cold high voice spread throughout the hall.

Tom… no, Voldemort already, almost with boredom watched another Death Eater, who crouched on stone floor. He didn't like it, his irritation only increased. Short wand's wave and everything stopped. Nocent awkwardly got to his feet.

— Absolutely useless information, Severus, — sizzling notes, that now and then slipping in his voice, combined with the crazy sparkle in the crimson eyes in a weird way, — I can't be defeated by a baby.

Subtle gesture, and Death Eater hurriedly left the hall, leaving his lord alone. Dark Lord leaned back on throne, drawing air in the narrow slits in the nose loudly. Well then there are either Potters or Longbottoms? Okay. He will prove to everyone, that no one has any rights to challenge Dark Lord Voldemort.

***

In Godric's Hallow reigned unusual for this place liveliness: pumpkins, dressed up children, running from house to house, joyful cries. So it's Halloween. Dark Lord twisted slightly but the celebration was to his advantage – so he could be unnoticed.

_ Harold loved Halloween… With his squad he rilled up all in the manor, contrary to spouse's displeasure, invariably forcing even ossified aristocrats to get involved in a noise game. _

These thoughts immediately became unbearably painful; vivid memories flashed in front of Voldemort's eyes. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the street. No. That's enough. He's gone, and Lord doesn't completely care.

Habitual insanity soothed – everything else doesn't important anymore.

The security on auror's house. What kind of game is it? The gate creaked a bit, when he opened it, carefully getting around the security charms but nobody heard that. Too easy.

Black-haired man screamed something to his wife, running in the corridor. Silly, he didn't even have a wand in his hand. It's even funny… Green light – Dark Lord calmly stepped over the dead man's body. The woman with the child are on the second floor.

He leisurely climbed the stairs: she is in the trap, she has nowhere to go. He opened the door with one wand's movement. Playroom. The woman froze in the middle of the room; the baby – near the window, in the crib. Naive. She didn't have a wand with herself either.

— Not Harry, please! Please don't do it!

Crimson eyes flashed in the gloom at one moment, Dark Lord made another step. Stupid woman was still begging. For what is dear to you, you can only fight, fight to the death, tearing it with your teeth from the clutches of fate…  _ As he himself couldn't do. _

— Go away, – quiet word said on his exhale. Will she obey?

Another green flash, and the woman fell on the floor. Voldemort turned to the baby, who stood, swaying slightly, holding on the bars of the crib.  _ Why aren't you scared? _

Bright green eyes attracted the glance. Dark Lord froze, unable to move. Somewhere inside echoed with such difficulty buried feelings… and the bond flinched. The baby held out a chubby hand – wizard stepped back, trying to lose obsession. _ It's not him. Not him… _

— Avada Kedavra.

The Dark Lord instantly turned around, but it was too late. Fascinated by the gaze of the child, he didn't notice the presence of someone else.

The old man in a ridiculously colorful mantle smiled with satisfaction and, turning to the crib, again threw up his magic wand.


	2. Fourth wheel.

«Harry Potter!» director's voice seemed to be much louder due to unnatural silent, that fell in Great hall.

Harry, as struck by thunder, continued sitting in his place, at the table of gryffindor, because he should not go anywhere right now. It is all a dream, isn’t it?

«Harry Potter!»

The boy flinched and, eventually, looked up. Students looked at him in a bewilderment; A disgruntled hum began to grow in the hall.

«But I didn’t throw my name into the Goblet,» repeated Harry with confusedly, looking for the least a little understanding in the gryffindors' faces.

«Harry Potter,» Dumbledore started loosing his patience, «Please, come out»

Stood up from the table, the guy on inflexible legs went to the head teacher. Step, one another. The beating of his heart seems to be heard in the farthest corner of the Great hall. The distance seemed to increase with each step; guarded, angry and perplexed looks – all of them were directed only at him. He wanted one thing – become invisible.

Have Potter ever thought, discovering about the Triwizard tournament a few months ago that he will take a part of it? Was this what Ron imagined, portraying himself as the Hogwarts champion in his dreams? Is this what Diggory, Krum and Delacour wanted? They all need fame, money... But Harry? Harry just wanted calmness. At least one year of peaceful life. Is that too much to ask?

The fireplace burned in the room; A bunch of portraits of wizards and witches talked in a half-whisper, discussing Goblet's choice. Three champions stood right next to the fireplace, waiting for their fate in tension; Glimmers of flame highlighted their serious faces, and Harry suddenly firstly thought about how much he was different from them...

«Unbelievable!» Ludo Bagman's loud voice, who literally flew into this tiny room, made Harry turn around sharply, «Let me introduce you fourth member of Triwizard tournament!»

Champions interestedly looked on the entered but their glances, searching for unexpected rival, slid over Harry as to an empty place. Until Fleur, first realizing what’s amiss, asked in surprise:

«Him?»

The door opened again, letting in new visitors: professor Dumbledore, Karkarov, madam Maxime, mister Crouch, professor McGonagall and Snape. The room was getting cramped. Those who entered argued loudly, apparently continuing the discussion of what they had just witnessed.

Harry, obeying some weird reflex, stepped back, nearly hiding in the shade. He didn’t listen attentively in the essence of conversation, although he understood they argued because of him. For Potter was enough to see how faces of those present changed. Professor Snape's boredom and hidden alertness, director's firm confidence, Karkarov's irritation and madam Maxim's righteous indignation – all of this was clearly visible for someone who was used to watch.

Harry looked away at champions, who got together in separate pile by the fireplace. They behaved ambiguous too. Fleur pouted lips resentfully, in her sight contempt appeared, Krum frowned even more, Sedric only looked from one talking to another as if he could not believe in what he heard.

Suddenly everyone, as if on command, turned to Harry, waiting for an answer. Did he miss something?

«Did you throw your name into the Goblet?» Dumbledore persistently repeated his question, peering closely.

«No, sir» responded Harry, a bit surprised.

«Did you ask one of the elders to do this?»

«No, sir» now the answer was more firmly.

«They don’t believe me» with some childish resentment thought Potter, looking around stubbornly.

«Just listen yourself, wisenheimers. How many of you could fool one of the most powerful artifact in fourteen years old?» hoarse voice had heard from the door and Alastor Moody burst into the room.

His every move was accompanied by a thud of wood on stone, and magical bright blue eye, not stopping for a second, looked around everyone and every individual separately, not missing a single detail.

«What are you talking about, Alastor?» Bagman nervously asked, habitually smiling with a tight-lipped smile on his face.

«Only powerful spell could force the Goblet to “forget” that in Tournament only three wizards can participate, and this alas a fourth-year student can’t handle.

New conflict was going to broke out but Dumbledore stopped it with only a stern look. Everyone remembered somehow on time who was the greatest light wizard of modernity and quieted down.

Potter hardly listened mister Crouch monotonically read instructions. The boy distantly noticed that the rumours didn’t lie: Head of ministerial department really was seriously ill but Harry's thoughts were completely different.

***

Potter sadly wandered along the Hogwarts tangled corridors – castle which become home for him. Now Harry didn’t care where and why he is going at all. Unexpected participation in dangerous Tournament, professor's mistrust, contempt glances from the real champions – all of these fell on him immediately, without even getting time om getting over the previous years' events. Was the questionable fame of the Boy-Who-Lived not enough for him?

Entering that room, Harry was firmly convinced that he won’t be allowed to participate but he was wrong again. Even Dumbledore couldn’t do anything. Magic contracts are too serious. No-one could have forseen what atonement was waiting wizard for neglecting duties...

Somewhere nearly the mouse rustled in fright; Potter looked around in surprise: there weren’t any magical portraits in this part of castle anymore, torches that didn’t burn too bright hung on the walls: they illuminated the corridor just enough to walk without bumping into walls. Definitely, he has never been here before but getting out of here didn’t seems difficult to him. He just should go in the opposite direction, shouldn’t he?

Another hour of wandering around the corridors and Harry got completely lost. It seemed that Hogwarts turned into a sentient maze that doesn’t want to let off the negligent student back into the Gryffindor's tower. Legs buzzed due to a long walk and Potter recalled the Marauders' map, which was left in his chest, with yearning. Harry tiredly sank right on the lithic floor, leaning back against the wall. Thoughts stubbornly returned to the Tournament.

No matter how assured everyone, that he didn’t throw his name into the ill-fated Goblet of fire, nobody believed. Nobody. Even Ron, his best friend, with whom he overcomed so many hardships, who has never accused him of lying.

He immediately felt an unbelievable hurt due to this thoughts and burning tears came to his eyes. Harry shook his head in irritation. That’s enough! He can’t continue to act like a child. He took off glasses and wearily rubbed his eyes. He wished he could find a place where he can hide...

Harry jumped up sharply, almost dropped his glasses from trembling hands, when he felt some movement with his back. Placing them on the right place and short-sightedly squinting, he extended his hand forward: it seemed to him that something changed but, unfortunately, it failed to make out what exactly changed.

The hand immediately stumbled on the smooth, polished wood: where there only was a cold stone wall, a door showed up. Potter cringed like from the cold but immediately reminded himself that Hogwarts is still a magic castle. Curiosity pretty soon defeated the self-preservation instinct, which was already virtually absent from the Gryffindors, and Harry boldly took on the carved door handle.

Door opened easily and as soon as he crossed the threshold, the room lighted up with bright white glow. Harry had to close his eyes tightly but when he got a little used to the lighting, he saw a stunning picture: the huge room was like a modern muggle city but towers and “high-rises” here were built with an insane amount of objects, the variety of which amazed the imagination.

Footsteps echoed somewhere beneath the vaults; Harry leisurely walked along the narrow aisles. Something unknown until this moment led the boy forward, directing him and suggesting the right path.

Small, absolutely smooth casket, made of weird black rock with iridescent greenish veins at the same time either attracted the eye and caused a desire to escape from it. Harry made a step forward, and a strange tremor ran from his top to the very tips of his fingers. With shaking hand he threw back the lid. Inside on the dark green velvet fabric layed one single silver stud earring with a small emerald. It seemed strangely familiar, although Harry could have seen it on one of the older students before.

Twisting his find in his hand, he decided to put it back, but the silver suddenly seemed to melt in his hand. Frightened, opening his fingers, Harry staggered back awkwardly. Silver drop, not reaching the floor, soared into the air like a thin ribbon and with a quiet whistle rushed straight into the boy who was frozen in place. Due to surprise he closed his eyes and feeling sharp pain in the left ear, gasped. The silver ribbon that became the earring again, habitually took its place in the lobe as if it had been there all his life.

The hand itself stretched to the hurt part of body but before Harry felt rough surface of the earring, as a wave of unexpected weakness swept across the body. Stumbling, he fell on the floor, simultaneously clumping a stack of textbooks from the nearest mount. Only the last thought fleetingly flew past in his head. When will he stop finding adventures on one notorious part of his body?


	3. Two-faced angel

It's time for midday rest. The sun penetrates in the tiny room unhindered, as if flashing it from inside. A fly, who miraculously flew here, buzzed without stopping. Occasionally some fragments of phrases from the radio, which was somewhere on the ground floor, reached ears. Readen book is right here, on the top of gray bedspread.

Tom turned to the wall and exhaled sharply, cursing the rule which forbade pupils to leave their rooms during midday hours and himself for reading the book so quickly. Rhythmical fly's buzz was already beginning to annoy.

Rolling on the other side, Tom sat on the bed lowering his feet on the floor. The flee hovered near a lonely light bulb. A few seconds later her flight's trajectory changed dramatically: the insect, having performed a «dead loop» in the air, it dived onto a wide window-sill, heated by sun. Grinning, Tom went to the window, stepping barefoot on the warm concrete floor. Entertainment was found.

The fly was just finishing the last steps in the wild dance, which was a cross between ballet and tap dance, when Mrs. Cole's distinctly loud voice came clearly to Tom. The boy winced losing control for a moment – screams never brought him something good. Poor insect taking advantage of a second holdback slinked off, huddled in some slit between the wall and the floor in flash. Tom carefully looked out the window, which looked just on the deserted courtyard and the main entrance of the orphanage. Something strange was happening there: near the cast-iron gate children of different ages crowded wearing the similar faded uniform of once blue.

Mrs. Cole thin tall woman with rather sharp features was arguing animatedly with a stranger in a strict black suit. Tom looked at the children again: there was ten of them of which only a few were girls. The oldest in this group was about fifteen and the younger ones didn't look older than Tom himself.

Girls stood separately, their faces were equally frightened and tearful. The boys, on the contrary, rather resembled bristled puppies, huddled together, motionlessly frozen near the gate, occasionally throwing wary glances at the conversing adults. Only one boy with blond, tousled hair was tirelessly hanging around trying to examine everything to the smallest details. He was saying something to his comrades and a faint smile appeared on their faces for several seconds, immediately giving way to the usual seriousness but Tom was sure that if there wasn't overall tension, all kids would have fun, talking.

The boy wasn't liked by Tom from the first second: it was immediately apparent that he was one of those who could quickly find friends and win everyone around without doing any effort, when Tom achieved this with grate difficulty, controlling every gesture.

This time Mrs. Cole, finally, waved a hand to the children, calling them to follow her and led them inside. The man wandered to a car, parked nearby, with pleasure, nodding to a woman. The deal is done.

Tom looked away from the window and looked at the empty bed in his room. Crooked grin appeared on his face. No, even if all of the rooms are full, nobody will share a room with him. For all years of his life here he managed to earn some reputation.

* * *

Mrs. Cole grimaced with displeasure. For the first time in this orphanage's history, it was completely full. One of the private orphanages on the outskirts of the city was closed and pupils were scattered in the rest of, with good compensation. Mrs. Cole, putting on an act, agreed soon and got in charge a dozen children of different ages. Her pupils casted glances on newbies with interest but met them quite friendly, that couldn't but rejoice manager.

Joy, honestly, faded with every step, brining woman closer to the farthest door on the floor, until, finally, Mrs. Cole stopped right in front of it. Even one child, which should be posted, left. Superiors didn't completely care about inner problems: as many empty rooms there were, as many children they sent.

Mrs. Cole turned to a child. Short for his age, but beautiful in his own way. A bit naive sight of bright blue eyes and blond, sticked out in all directions hair gave the boy the appearance of an angle. Who will she be if she allocate him to the real beast?

«What's wrong, Mrs. Cole?» – ringing voice pulled woman out of thought, foreing her to look on astonishing eyes.

«I'm afraid you won't be able to get along with your neighbor, honey. No one withstands Tom more than a week.» – Mrs. Cole answered wearily, at the same time literating over all possible accomodation options.

«Don't worry, Mrs. Cole,» – her angel smiled and the woman completely softened up, – «I'm sure that we'll become best friends.»

Mrs. Cole sighed heavily, knocked the door, and, without waiting an answer, entered the room, immediately meeting with a questioning look of dark brown eyes. The woman froze on the doorstep for a second. She was afraid of this child without awareness, to the point of trembling.

Then everything happened in a blur. She quickly introduced new neighbors, announced that the midday rest period is coming to the end and hurried away, leaving boys alone. Only standing outside the door, Mrs. Cole was able to catch her breath. She made her best. She could only pray that in near future there won't be any serious injuries in the orphanage.

* * *

Tom questionally looked at the incomers, he didn't even bother to get up from bed. While he was half listening to mrs. Cole he attentively regarded his new neighbor. In the vicinity everything seemed even more grimly for the boy: naive, silly expression on his face, blue eyes that were positively glowing with benevolence... Plans for an early eviction of this concentration of human cheerfulness were gradually forming in his head.

Tom answered automatically and forced the nicest smile that he could have. Boy's face lighted up (although, could it be any lighter?) and shook hand with newly made neighbor. Tom could have sworn that to an outsider it looked like a miraculous reunion of at least native brothers. who has been separated a long time ago but as soon as door closed after the woman all the charm was gone. The boy, freeing his hand, stepped back. Tom clearly felt changes in atmosphere, now it was clear to him that he jumped to conclusions. Boy searched his memory, it seemed, Mrs. Cole introduced this boy. What's his name?... Harry, Garry...

«Harold,» – he spoke suddenly.

Tom questionally looked at him, head titled slightly to the right.

«That's my name. You didn't listen, did you?» – the boy smiled, returning the face of angel.

«Right,» – he chuckled darkly, not wanting to have anything to do with the weird boy.

* * *

The next few days all of the residents of orphanage warily watched this couple. Children that have been in this place for years and knew firsthand what this terrible Riddle is like, wondered why didn't Harold start to ask about resettlement yet. Each inwardly sympathised new boy who could melt even Mrs. Cole's icy heart but no one dared to openly oppose Tom.

Newcomers, after listening to the stories from old-timers, were felt the whole tragedy of what happened too, and only Harold, if he was dissatisfied with something, didn't show it. In contrast, he tried to prevent those compassionate glances in his direction and zealously rushed to protect his neighbour. Tom only curled his lips at this an went to a quieter place.

Harold didn't seem to notice Riddle's displeased, somewhat contemptuous attitude towards himself continuing breaking into his neighbour's measured and boring life. Seldom Tom felt the scrutiny and could have sworn that it was Harold but when he turned around, he always saw naive bright blue eyes and broad smile.

* * *

«Tom!» – Harold shouted from somewhere near the courtyard.

Riddle grimaced, dissatisfied. It was now the third week of their entered neighbourship and Harold didn't even think about moving out. Moreover, he completely came to the conclusion that Tom should be brought out from a reclusive existence, so, after taking a little closer look at his neighbour he began to act.

Harold turned out to be a personal nightmare for Tom: without leaving him for almost a minute he was constantly talking about something. And what was worse, Riddle quite often had found himself joining the conversation and arguing with boy. Apparently, in there moments something in his eyes changed because Harold looked at him with snide, triumphant expression.

Now Tom was sitting on the grass right behind the orphanage. Of course, it was hard to call this one-and-a-half-meter-wide strip of land a backyard but it was almost completely overgrown with low shrubs, hiding Tom from unwanted company. Here he discovered his ability that made him feel proud. He could talk with snakes.

They often crawled here to task on a small round rock and spoke with joy and respect to a person who understood them. In these moments Tom almost was happy.

«Oh, there you are!» – an exclamation that suddenly rang out so close made Riddle to wince.

Little silver snake, disturbed by loud voice, ducked into the grass. A wave of annoyance began to rise inside Tom. Had he found him here too?

«Hush!» – he hissed as well as the snake he had just spoken to.

Harold looked at Tom in surprise at the same time sitting down at the ground, so he could not be seen from the courtyard.

«What are you doing here?» – he asked in a low voice.

«Enjoying the silence» – Tom said and then spat out with a grimace: «Or rather, i was, until you came.»

Harold laughed loudly and, clearly not in the mood to be silent, immediately began to tell something. Tom honestly tried to abstract what was occurring but his mind kept catching snatches of phrases that despite the desire formed a connected story which, however, had no useful information. With every new word Tom was getting more and more angry until his irritation reached that apogee after which child's frail body was always filled with an unknown power. Tom didn't know how this condition called but the feeling of power was intoxicating.

Harold broke of abruptly, aware of Tom's gaze on him and then every cell in his body began to tear apart. The boy curled up shuddering in excruciating pain clenching his teeth to stifle a scream but it was all over in just a few moments. Harold lay there, blinking back tears and trying to catch his breath but a hysterical laugh rose in his throat.

Tom stared at the boy who was giggling quietly beside him; his head immediately began to line up the options of retreat if Harold as Riddle had suspected had gone mad.

«I knew it!» – he announced with a satisfied smile and then he narrowed his eyes slyly. – «You've lasted a long time, Tom.»


End file.
